Bottles and Potions of Brio
by The What-If Writer
Summary: "Ah yes, he remembered the old days." Alone in his lab, Dr Nirtus Bio ponders on the change in the N-Team's lives over the years. Set after MoM, both universes slightly mixed (Naughty Dog, Sierra ect.) ONE-SHOT.


_UPDATE: For some reason the site deletes ' and ' among other names- don't know why. I apologize and I'll try to find a way to fix it ^^_

_A little snippet on Brio's thoughts- a mixture of the pre- Sierra Brio and the MoM one. Please review :) I hope you enjoy it._

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Bottles and Potions of Brio

It was cliche in some ways, the system that they had gotten into.

It started out as the bandicoot, mostly. Orange and with a mouth always open in a less-than intelligent grin, he breezed through traps, battles and enemies before taking them down. Dr Cortex was always present of course- save that time Uka Uka grew tired of him and turned to Dr Tropy instead. His plan had failed, too- but he got further than Cortex had in the first go it seemed.

Brio put down the vivid bottle of liquid and sighed. Surrounding him was the stone walls and barred window of his lab; the floor smooth enough to carry things on without tripping but hard and cold. His potions, vials and equipment lit up the work space; his potions always bore a bright hue.

He felt comfortable here; able to think and work calmly. It was a higher room in the castle; he could not hear the minion's rough housing, or Gin's loud explosive tinkering or Dr Cortex's tantrums. He tabbed a bit of powder into the liquid and watched it turn from green to red.

He tilted his long head and thought again. Ah yes, he remembered the old days. It had been simpler; Dr Cortex would round them up and they would make an attempt to take over the world. And they would fail...then it would repeat, good always triumphing like in a game or story. Sometimes he would not be present, sometimes Tropy would opt out, calling them fools. He had not seen the tall azure man in quite a while now.

He knew Tropy would never work with Cortex again, not after that incident with that dragon. But he hadn't expected him to vanish.

Brio placed the bottle down and picked up a beaker, slowly. He wouldn't say he missed him. They weren't ever friends; their personality contrasted like snow and fire. He knew he had always been a meek man, and Tropy was...rather confident. Smug, even.

And, people paid attention to him.

Although it wasn't too hard, being tall, blue and wearing the equivalent of a grandfather clock as armor.

Cortex wasn't exactly hard to miss, either. They where a strange bunch, the old team- a yellow skinned, square headed man with clown hair. A cyborg with an actual rocket in his head. And himself, a bolt-headed, mutated potion maker.

He took a sip of one of said potions. The taste wasn't nice nor satisfying, but it woke him up a little, stung his tongue- not painfully, but like chilly would.

Brio knew this habit appeared odd and even like a alcoholic addiction to people, but he was sure they knew what could happen if he stopped. Turning into a giant green monster had terrified those minions during the N-V presentation, and the potion had been the only thing capable of turning him back.

As handy as switching forms was, found that it came with a large price. After the first time all those years ago, when Crash had first thought him in this very lab, he had found himself sick and ill. Eventually he had to adapt to the mutation in his system and accept it would never truly leave. He tried to stay calm most times- but being the nervous, stuttering wreck he was that was a problem.

After taking the mutagen multiple times, along with the constant string of potion-making and being near fumes and toxins, Brio found his skin wrinkling and darkening a little, and his voice beginning to change. The stutter and laugh- like the mutation- grew under control from the potion falling down his throat. He enjoyed a good laugh, still, though, but he had to admit it was easier to speak to people.

Brio took another sip and placed it back in his pocket.

He picked up the beaker again and added some acidic formula, humming a little to himself. He, Cortex and where the only ones really remaining. Tropy's smug, sarcastic presence was not exactly missed when he left. But they'd grown so accustomed to him being there, on the team. His absence...was always known. Not missed, though.

Gin seemed to have grown a little more unstable over the years. When he first faced Crash, he had a little more ground to his mind. Now, he was always yelling and never at all calm. Brio found it hard to speak to him. Tiny, Dingodile and the other minions went out and found their own way of living; they barely hung around the castle or did their bidding. New minions where created; less interesting ones he had to admit.

"Though not at all ineffective." Brio mused aloud. They where good at building and cleaning, anyway.

Brio wondered after a moment, placing the beaker down. He had actually been absent from this castle himself for years. Longer than Tropy had. After he'd grown some nerve and left Cortex's side after the demise of their first plan...one would say he turned 'good'.

He had giggled uncontrollably as he destroyed the Space Station. He'd not been repulsed by the Bandicoot then, Brio had been happy for his help. He, in a sense, had helped save the world. Though his intentions were based on revenge mostly- they weren't exactly honorable.

Sometimes he wondered what he was doing here. He loved accomplishment; building grand plans. Taking over the world was something he and Cortex both wanted...but the means of doing it seemed different. hadn't actually harmed anyone. Well- he'd brainwashed, mutated, controlled people and very well tried to harm the bandicoots. But he hadn't blown anyone up or done anything too serious. And he had tried to take over the world, so he wasn't exactly a saint.

He wondered if he could be called evil. Maybe...a different sort of evil. A maniacal, megalomaniac level. Not the scummy type that fill prisons.

He would admit the feeling of power and finally having the role of the tormentor, not the victims like he and Cortex had been growing up, gave him the most motivation. Something to gloat about, not the pain of the innocent was the thing he craved.

Oh well.

"Brio?"

He snapped out of his thoughts, and turned around quickly. Cortex was poking his large head through the door, peering around as if Brio could be anywhere but at his much loved worktable. His small pupils found him a second later. "Ah, there you are. Did you finish that formula we talked about?"

He could hear the eagerness in his colleague's voice, and couldn't help but feel a twinge of a grin and eagerness pass to himself. "Yes. I believe this little invention of mine is just about done."

With that, he poured the contents of the beaker into the bottle, and the red colour blazed to blue.

Cortex stared at it with an almost greedy expression and Brio felt his fingers tighten around the glass. He knew he valued the invention more than his presence, but then again, assets in this profession where always just for personal gain, not friendship.

Cortex sauntered over and took it from him; Brio let him with a slight frown. "Better than that blue clock tinkerer could come up with!"

Ah. Brio scowled now. Cortex spoke of this as if it where his creation- and he took it back from him with a little force, forcing a calm smile as he turned away.

"Well, is no potion inventor. I happen to be." He said this with his own air of smugness, grabbing at the rare moments he could gloat in Cortex's presence. "And this is one of my best inventions."

"Right up there with slinkies..." Cortex mumbled, rolling his eyes. scowled.

"Let's change the subject."

Cortex turned on his heel and strode back to the door, "Well, the machine is ready and the formula is ready for testing...so shall we get this show on the road?" He rubbed his hands together. Brio grinned.

"Yes."

And they both left the room, eager and grinning- and for a moment Brio was glad he was Cortex's partner again. They were not friends, but they had their fun once in a while- among all the feuding and almost-fist-fights that ended in a high-five.

Some things never change for long.


End file.
